Facade
by sleipnirfenris
Summary: Centres on Reno the Turk. Turk Reno isn't all that he appears. Here is a glance at the inner workings of his mind. Inspire by Enigma author unfortunately said author's alias escapes me


nobody knows, nobody cares

that I died on the inside

nobody knows sees the lie that is me

because I smile, on the outside

(Amy Studt - Nobody - False Smiles)

There's a secret about Reno. One that he keeps, even from Rude. It's so well kept, the mirage portrayed so keenly that even he forgets sometimes.

Reno, a Turk, a murderer whose blood stained hands taint everything they touch. A mere graze leaves a mark, an unremoveable smear upon a person's soul.

Reno was toxic.

Many a people couldn't stand to be around him. They found him brash, rude, unbearabely loud and obnoxious and sleezy. They failed to look behind the crude comments, the leacherous gaze and the wandering hands. Many didn't bother to look deep into his eyes, see the patterns in Reno's speech just weren't _quite_ right. The damn near imperceptible imperfections fooled almost everyone and those that did notice daren't comment. They were the ones that noticed the sorrow and the anger lingering far behind those eyes.

They saw the intelligence.

You had to look deep and you had to look hard. It was too much effort for most for Reno rarely slipped his facade. Too put off by his constant prattling they never stopped for a moment. A single moment could be all that it takes to glimpse, just for a fraction of a second that there was something remotely human remaining about him.

No one saw the regret.

Years ago Reno knew he had made a mistake. A rebellion gone too far. But he couldn't turn back now. No way out. To leave meant certain death and although Reno did not fear it, he didn't want to be terminated. That wasn't the way he wanted to go. Long discussions with Rude, promises of going out together with a bang....perhaps not heroics they were long established thugs and trouble makers but it would be something special.

_"Hey partner...." Reno started arm draped over the larger man. "If you go, I go,"_

_Rude didn't reply. He was his usual stoic silent self leaving Reno to babble knowing it would wear off like it always did and his slim redheaded colleague would shake his head and declare they had to be elsewhere._

"_No...no I mean it," Reno protested to the silent accusations he knew Rude's eyes were making. They knew each other far too well to hide quirks and deny obvious patterns in behaviour. Although Reno had tried often enough. Sometimes, just sometimes, the skinny male threw him off bahving oddly on purpose just to keep him on his toes. To keep him off the scent. But just now he was revealing a tiny sliver of heart. It was quite touching really....even if it was drunken declarations._

_"You're bladdered Reno,"_

_Reno shook his head a bit twitchy. "You're my best friend Rude. I ain't got nothing besides you,"_

It could have been a confession of love. It could have been a confession of unconditional friendship, forever lasting, unbreakable and binding. But truly it was a fear of loneliness, a fear of starting over with the happy memories inlaid thick in his mind. Reno would never tell a soul, but he had started over too many times to do it again. He had risked everything for this job.

And so it was done. Convinced Rude agreed that they would all go down together whether that be tomorrow or in five years time. Live for today because tomorrow could bring either death and destruction or the happiest day of your life.

And being a Turk the former was far far more probable.

In the beginning things had been fantastic. The thrill, adventure, adrenalin. I was quite possibly the best job of his entire life and he was loving every second. Family be damned, he would show them. Reno would always look down, shake his head and plaster a smile on his face when family, parents or sisters were mentioned. They weren't there to see what he had become and Reno was relieved and hated it simulataneously. Relieved they didn't have to see their son as a cold blooded killer with enough blood on his hands to paint the town red several times over - literally. Relieved he didn't ahve to see the horror, disgust and disappointment etched in the expressions as they scanned him, denied being related and walked out the door. Happy he was free of such ties weighing him down and reeling him in just like a Turk should. Turks have no family, no ties, no bonds except the contract they sign. He hated them not being there too. Reno was actually good at something and there was no way to deny it this time. His parents would have to conceed and he'd get to deny them this time, the concession, although undoubtedly horrified, would be far far too late. Of course, he just knew they'd tell him he was still taking orders.

It was partly why he left in the first place.

Scrunching his face in an annoyed manner, clenching his fists Reno would light up a cigarette and smoke to his heart's content. Reno didnt' smoke often. He'd tell those who asked it was his job. It didn't cover cancer, getting wheezy and out of breath would be disasterous on missions, especially the long undercover espionage types. He couldn't be gasping for breath while bullets were flying towards the President, his boss, or the Chief. That was a one way ticket to the Life Stream. And being drunk...or intoxicated as they preferred to say was also a big fat nope. Don't you dare or you'll wind up with a bullet in your head. So instead of getting cancer, he was occasionally maxing out his liver, curing hangovers as best he could before wandering into work and covering it up. Everyone expected him to drink, do drungs, smoke, get laid often. The world lived by their perception of him and what they believed was the truth.

No one ever stopped to think about it. No one ever stopped to ask or to get to know him.

Reno didn't do drugs. No questionable foriegn substance had ever entered his blood stream unless it was by force or by the psyco Hojo. The very mention of the creep brought shivers down his spine. No, Reno didn't do drugs. He liked to be perfectly aware of his surroundings. Taking in details was difficult when high. You never knew who or when the enemy was going to strike. but he was ready for when the did.

When he smoked he reflected. That was why he rarely did it. Remembering wasn't something Reno ever wanted to do. To recall the bitter disappointment, being ignored and pushed, and pushed and pushed. To watch his sibling get all the glory and attention and to have his parents scorn and pat him on the head. To remember the anger and the sorrow and the determination. To remember the screaming, the kicking and the spitting, the screaching, the slapping, the tearing of hair and the pleading. No one but Rude knew of the time he slipped and bared his heart to him. And Rude never metioned it. Rude was the only one alive to know that small flame burned on and realised why Reno has so many barriers in place and why it was so difficult to get past them.

Turks don't have hearts you see. Reno was an oxymoron of his existance.

Reno the soul less apathetic Turk who would sooner torture you to death than simply fire a bullet into your brain and have grey matter splatter out. Reno who laughed at the face of danger and lunged right into it head first and encouraged mental, physical and emotional torture. Who lived and breathed by the way of blood and bones who had no heart left except for it to beat his crimson liquid through his veins so he could accomplish his filthy questionable deeds.

Reno was many many things but soul less, heartless wasn't one of them.

_It was the same old thing. The pleading, the high pitched stratchy voice telling him all the reasons why he had to live. A child, a mother, a father, a husband a mentally disabled nephew that lived in Kalm....it meant nothing to the Turk covered in patches of scarlet. There wasn't a shade of red quite like blood. And boy did Reno love the shade of blood and the tangy coppery smell._

_"Please Mister Turk. You gotta let me live you just gotta!" He practically screamed at him, holding on with a tight fisted grasp onto his crumpled clothes._

_"Hey dead man. You're ruining my uniform," Reno dusted the guy off, brushing his clothes down, paying the soon to be dead male as much attention as an irritating insect.__  
_

_Rude shook his head. Reno's clothes weren't exactly crisply ironed to begin with._

_The target shook his head emphatically, tears brimming._

"_Gaia you're such a wimp yo," Reno said in an annoyed voice._

_"You're about to kill me!" The guy squeaked. "I was so good to ShinRa I did everything they asked, I haven't done anything wrong,"_

"_Besides Treason. We don't like treason," Reno informed him of his crimes. "You did, we have proof," Reno said before he had to listen to anymore snivelling. This was getting boring.___

_The man changed snarling. "And I told them everything! You destroy people's lives and I told everyone who would listen and Gaia did they lap it up. ShinRa's set to fall you piece of ****. You and your fat ugly boss and his powerhungry crazed..."_

_He never got to finish the sentence. Reno had already shot him through the head. If there was something that angered the Hell out of Reno it was people flaming ShinRa. "Bastard didn't know when to shut up,"_

_Rude stared at Reno for a moment taking in the irony of that statement and wondering how the hell his partner couldn't see that his own gob lacked a latch. If the fiery redhead had an off button, or even a snooze faculty, Rude had yet to find it. And he would highly honour the day he did. He would mark it down on the calendar. In bright red capital letters...he might even throw in a smiley._

_"Come. let's get outta here and hit the pubs," Reno said turning his back on_ _the scene and calling Clean Up. It was then the discovered the baby.___

_A wailing started. It pierced the ears causing both men to cringe and grimace. The gun shot must of woken it. Reno and Rude looked at each other before following the irritating sound. "Gaia I wish it would shut up," Reno muttered._

_"Soon," Rude replied hand still tense around his gun. NOrmally his fists were hsi preferred method but here it wasn't wise to give the impression he lacked weapons. The slums were a dangerous place._

_Reno just half glanced at Rude. There lying in the cot was a pretty baby girl, bawling her eyes out. Her blanket was a perfect shade_ _of pink, if not a little dusty. A little grey rabbit lay with her, big ears small body. It looked a little deformed but you could tell she was fond of it by the fraying of the sewing. Reno just stared at her. In turn the bald man stared at his partner. Reno had never hesitated before. By now he would have fired, sighed and turned awayclaming that perhaps a double shot was in order. He had killed kids for simply getting in his way. He had broken their necks and silenced them when they asked their innocent naive questions. He had watched Reno reassure three year olds, put them back in bed and end their short lives after lulling them to sleep._

_But this time Reno didn't move._

_The crying continued for what seemed like an Age before the Turk moved. "Kill it," He ordered Rude brushing past him and not turning back. With a moment's pause the deed was done.__  
_

_Turk Reno couldn't end a baby's minute life. Where was the empty hollowness now?_

Any mention of the incident had Reno pulling rank on his best friend. On silent agreement the order was left out of the mandatory reports and the recounts given to Tseng. Day in day out the same thing. Boring paperwork just like the essays at school. Churn them out, get them back, rewrite them three times before they were acceptable and Tseng no longer wore that exhasperated expression.

When bored he played the most amusing of pranks but prankees tended to yell at him. Another form of attention seeking, elaborate, well disguised and sometimes even Reno himself forgot. Forgot that he was running and never stopped not daring to look behind. He hid his heart so well from the world it often slipped his mind that he even had one slightly broken but mostly whole.

Reno hid that from everyone. He hid the binging on food after a mission to make up for the lost lives who would never see the light of day again and complain about the congestion to and from work every single day, get home and collapse onto the bed after a hard day's work.

Once a year Reno would donate part of his salary to charity and three times a year hold an up market dinner party playing host and benefactor in the costa Del Sol. It was the few times he could scrounge a day or two off work when he'd clean up, get dressed in a proper Tux and speak like he used to when he was a child.

Reno knew things about the slums the others didn't. They put it down to living there and being a crafty little bugger. They all ignored the sly smirk plastered over his lips as he recalled memorizing every nook and cranny of the place to make himself more authentic. No one ever thought for a second that loudmouthed skinny Reno had only lived in the slums for a measly two years before being picked up by the Turks. Or that his accent held the most interesting of twangs.

Strong youthful emotions weren't always the best to follow especially in festering rage, the kind that lingers for years after the fact but when it dies leaves a dull emptiness making you wonder what the hell you were so mad about in the first place. He knew if he saw them again it would all come flooding back. It was perfectly fine with him if he never saw them again. The past was the past. And the past was where it would remain.


End file.
